


High

by Sir_Bedevere



Category: The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Drug Use, Drug use in as far as Tolkien mentions drug use, Gen, Humour, That sounds awful doesn't it?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-20
Updated: 2013-03-20
Packaged: 2017-12-05 22:20:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/728533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sir_Bedevere/pseuds/Sir_Bedevere
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Bilbo,” Bofur said, “Are you sure your pipeweed does nothing funny to dwarves?”</p>
<p>“I didn’t think so,” Bilbo said, eying Ori lazily, “Perhaps some mild hallucinations, you know, for those not quite used to it.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	High

**Author's Note:**

> Entirely gratuitous and mostly for my own entertainment ;)

He honestly hadn’t meant for it to happen, but there was no point in trying to tell Dori that. All Bofur could do was try to lay low for a few days and avoid the older dwarf. It didn’t matter in the slightest that the others found it amusing – he had little doubt that Dori would kill him if he got hold of him when they were alone.

And anyway, _Bilbo_ was just as much to blame as Bofur was but Dori had a soft spot for the hobbit a mile wide. He called him a little gentleman and the two of them had spent many an evening discussing what they called ‘the finer things in life’. This love of fine wine and subtly spiced dishes meant that it didn’t matter that _Bilbo_ was the one who brought his little pouch of pipeweed out whilst he and Bofur were on watch. It didn’t matter that _Bilbo_ was the one who promised him the hobbit weed wouldn’t do anything to dwarves. The only thing Bofur was responsible for was noticing that little Ori was awake and asking him if he wanted to join them….and yes, maybe he had persuaded Ori to take a pipeful of the weed. That was it. 

Hardly the crime of the age.

But then something had happened. Bofur, who was used to smoking all manner of tobacco and weed, some of them of much less quality and more dubious origin of what was being offered now, noticed that Bilbo’s offering made him a little bit lightheaded. He was watching the patterns in the fire, marvelling as the last embers floated away into the dawn light, when he heard Ori let out a little squeak.

“What’s the matter lad?” Bofur said softly, not noticing the slur in his own voice, “Are you alright?”

“Can you see the cow over there?” Ori said, “The one wearing a hat?”

Bofur and Bilbo followed his trembling finger to a dark corner of the clearing.

A decidedly cow –free corner.

“Nothing there, Ori,” Bilbo said, still sucking on his own pipe, his brow furrowed in a way that made Bofur think he was actually far from concerned, “Just a trick of the light.”

He stoked the embers under the kettle, chuckling to himself. Bofur, something in his mind nagging at him, watched Ori carefully. The young dwarf had stumbled to his feet and gone to investigate his corner, reaching out gingerly to touch something that only he could see.

“Bilbo,” Bofur said, “Are you sure your pipeweed does nothing funny to dwarves?”

“I didn’t think so,” Bilbo said, eying Ori lazily, “Perhaps some mild hallucinations, you know, for those not quite used to it.”

“Bilbo,” Bofur groaned, “He’s only a lad. I don’t know if he has even smoked before!”

Before Bilbo could answer Bofur had got to his feet, his head clearing a little as he stepped away from the fire. He turned to Ori’s corner and stopped dead.

“Bilbo?”

“Mmm?”

“Where is Ori?”

At that moment, several things happened. There was a small splash from the pool just out of the clearing and the kettle which they had set boiling ready for breakfast began to shriek, waking Dori, Bombur and Dwalin. With perfect timing, Bilbo answered his question just so that Dori heard the reply.

“I don’t know where Ori is, Bofur. I thought you were keeping an eye on him.”

There was no time to hear Dori’s exclamation of horror. Bofur was out of the clearing and towards the pool, praying Ori hadn’t fallen in the deep part where they had bathed the night before. The kid wasn’t a strong swimmer.

The young dwarf was in the water, floating on his back and smiling inanely. Thank goodness he wasn’t wearing his heavy woollen layers, because he would have been under in a wink if he was. Bofur swore, flinging off his coat and diving in the pool. The cold water shocked the last of the fuzziness from his mind and he struck out towards Ori, grabbing him gently by the hand and towing him back towards the shore.

Dori was there, hoping up and down with rage. He pulled Ori from the water and wrapped his arms around him.

“Ori, what were you thinking?”

“Oh, hello Dori,” Ori said, “Why are you wearing the cow’s hat?”

“Bofur,” Dori growled through gritted teeth, letting Ori go, “What have you done to him?”

Bofur didn’t answer at that precise moment, choosing instead to dodge the stone that Dori had also scooped up and aimed at his head.

“I didn’t know what it would do to us,” Bofur said, jumping again around another stone and dancing right into Dwalin, who had just arrived at the scene, “Hobbits are only little folk aren’t they? I didn’t know their weed would be so strong.”

He tucked himself behind Dwalin, who was chuckling to himself, and watched as Bombur arrived and took Ori gently by the arm to lead him back to camp. Dori growled again and leapt forward but Dwalin out a hand and held him fast.

“That’s enough, Dori. No harm done. Nobody’s fault.”

“No harm done,” Dori grumbled, eying Bofur as he slipped away from behind his shield, “Nobody’s fault. No harm done he says.”  
Ori was sat by the fire, a cup of tea cradled in his hands. Bombur was stood over him, making him drink it. Bofur couldn’t help but smile; always a father first, was his brother. His wee ones were lucky to have him, that was for certain. From his place besides the fire, Bilbo watched them carefully, a small and completely guiltless smile on his face. This was probably a routine reaction for young hobbits to their own weed the first time they tried it.

“How are you feeling, lad?” Bofur murmured, sliding in next to Ori, “I’m sorry. I didn’t know what it would do to you.”

“It’s alright,” Ori said, smiling, and then he turned to look up at Bombur, “What’s for breakfast? I’m starving.”


End file.
